


moonstruck

by floruerunt



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, emetophobia as in mentions of vomit and nausea, inspiration can sometimes be harmful, its more like a character study of leo i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floruerunt/pseuds/floruerunt
Summary: Leo is abducted briefly by aliens who came from the moon.





	moonstruck

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh hi its my first fic my english is rusty and i dunno how to write i hope u enjoy it!

Leo usually would stay in school, even after classes were over. 

It surely wasn't because of work, or other responsibilities - the ginger was too airheaded to attend to this type of things, so it really wasn't it. He was just… abducted. 

Yes, that would be how he'd put it. 

Abducted, away from Earth - the planet being his issues, flying in an UFO in the middle of space, away from everything he cares about and that cares about him, so worry won't punch him in the gut. So the responsibilities won't punch him in the gut. So maybe, if he disappears, he'll be useful for… something. 

Something he doesn't quite know what it is, though! He's still figuring it out - he thinks as he stares at the spinning, dizzying light of the Moon, watching her gaze right back at his heart and pierce it, carefully sculpting with her tools, his oh-so-broken heart. Leo thought about it. He knows that his meaning in life is to be useful for something - but what would that be? Making songs? Making people happy? No, the latter he had failed ages ago. 

Abductions ago, he would say. 

The pencil started moving on it's own again, one could say it was a paranormal, an unnatural and unnerving phenomenon, that the boy wasn't even looking at the sheets of paper, but he was making songs in the same way. 

It didn't matter - since the long time he started connecting the writing with his body, writing with his blood, writing with his tears, heck, did he write with his vomit already? - Leo had already it on his mind, every line, every musical note, every sound, every pause. Everything. And by connecting this everything with himself, he could express it. 

With his hands, at least - because his words are a garbled mess, his titles are weird, his sentences are disgusting. He stared further into the Moon, his gaze not being defeated by the clouds, by the blinding light. He had to write every perfection and imperfection of her on these papers. Everything. 

And not… not even this everything he was expressing could make him feel whole. He was sweating, nausea crippling at his body, but he was incomplete. As always. Warm as ever, incomplete as ever - it's like someone put a really big marble inside a mug of hot cocoa, making it spill everything and making it empty. 

The marble was warm, at least. 

"Next page", he muttered under his breath, gone by now, he was suffocating and he didn't realize. Funny, wahaha, so funny, Leo thought. It was funny. It was an abduction, something was messing with his body and his brain - that was melting at this point - and he didn't know what the hell this thing was. 

Since when inspiration, by itself, became so despairing? 

He sucked the air in, gasping for it like a bastard, and kept on writing. Oh, his hands were all sweaty as well, and hurting, hurting too much from the grip on the pencil but he couldn't stop, couldn't stop, he gasped and gasped and looked at the Moon and at the lunar craters, since when did it became so ugly? It was because he stopped looking? The sight of the Moon turned into something more gruesome, more grotesque, he heard someone sigh and footsteps footsteps footsteps what's the BPM of these footsteps? They're slow and it sounds like a catwalk, an elegant catwalk! Was he hallucinating, he couldn't remember, he kept gazing at the Moon and he couldn't remember what's the name, _"if I can't remember it then I'm going to- "_

He was looking at the ground. 

He was being lifted by his hoodie! Someone grabbed his hoodie and lifted him! Like a little kitten! Wait, when did he get this hoodie? 

The Moon spoke to him, tenderly, with his low, raspy voice - it was an invitation to go back to Earth.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!


End file.
